Description: "Kon, look at me," you said, gently. He doesn't at first, and it tears a note in your voice, "Please."
Words: 1493
Notes: I haven't done this in a while!! I just randomly busted this out of nowhere. I'm sorry if this makes 0% sense. I still hope you like it, though!! There might be some sort of message in here, but I'll let you guys figured that out =D

_

"This isn't real," he says, and it's almost heartbroken enough to be true.

It's not just the fact that you're here, finally, after months and months of absence, searching space for an adventure and a purpose he couldn't follow. It's not that you're different. Well, that's still noticeable—the fancy space armor and the new upgrade in the space-cops thing is hard to ignore. But everything's wrong, like you traveled back in time just to see him again.

The waves are cool, the rocking motion like a lullaby for the moon in its distorted reflection. It's beautiful in a way Conner's never been able to articulate. Like the moon and the water are sliding against each other, comparing the size of their hands only to entangle them under the cover of the night sky. You're just observers to the romance. But even if you aren't accustomed to such a thing, Conner definitely is.

He has to remind himself that you're outside the mountain, sitting on the beach, because when you sigh an, "Oh, Conner," he's back home again.

Conner—Superboy, because that was the only name he'd taken then—had just got home from patrol, settled his boots on the beach outside the house he shared with Rex and Roxy Leech. Then arms would settle around him. A voice would tease him something fierce, call him the Hero of Hawaii with that sweetly mocking tone. And he would know them right away, would always know them, like it had been programmed into him from the start for his knees to buckle whenever you looked at him.

He used to joke about it. Maybe you were a failsafe, an early weakness they could exploit at CADMUS had he escaped. But you were too smart and too brave and too sharp for it to work. That part, at least, had been confirmed; no wonder you were accepted into some fancy space-military thing. He was just glad you weren't a Lantern.

But it's like Hawaii, and that's frustrating. His hair's all short and he wears a stupid t-shirt now and you're home from space with your cool ship and your cooler alien friends, and Conner's been left behind and he doesn't know what to do. This isn't Hawaii. But he desperately wished it was.

"Kon, look at me," you said, gently. He doesn't at first, and it tears a note in your voice, "Please."

Conner tries, and it's half like looking at a whole new person and half like seeing a ghost. The night is warm and refreshing. You're out of the armor now, tucked up in an absolutely ancient hoodie that he'd given to you when you'd first left. He doesn't know why he stares at it. It is really hard to look new people in the eye, though.

"S.B," you whispered, and that's a thousand, hundred, bajillion times worse than a yell. It's a little funny, too, "Please."

Conner does look, but he's wrong. It's harder to look a ghost in the eye when a part of you knows that they're still there. Somehow.

He does what he usually does. It's completing, the easy slip of his fingers against your scalp, through your hair, pulling you in as he has always done. You don't dare hesitate to kiss him back. Instead, your fingers fumble around his chest in search of leather lapels that aren't there anymore. So you grab his shoulders. Palm his neck. And that's a thousand, hundred, bajillion times more intimate.

"I'm sorry," you tell each other at the same time as you pull away. The laugh that follows is weak, but at least it's genuine.

"Me first," you claimed. You stop yourself before you start again, taking the little unsure flutters of his hands on your hips and planting them down into place, a silent promise. "I'm sorry I didn't call or visit enough. There was this refugee planet, and this insane guard, but... There's no excuse. I should have... I should have been here."

"I should have tried harder to get to you," Conner countered, but you shook your head.

"No, Conner. That's not how this works. You have a family, here—a-a life, and a duty here on Earth," you waved your thumb, other fingers still unsure if they should leave his skin yet, "The only thing I have left on Earth is you. So, I should come here. Why make you leave?"

"You say all that like if I do leave with you we're never coming back," Conner said. He laughed, humorless and almost a little panicked. "Please tell me you're coming back after your next space-mission-thing—and okay, what exactly is this thing again?"

You recoiled, quickly, as if terrified of the idea in the most literal way. "I would never abandon you like that. The core I'm apart of is almost universally wide, and is like the Lanterns, but you get to enroll of your own choosing—and drop out anytime, like a normal police academy. But... in space."

His shoulders flopped, because that sounded ridiculously cool, and the dramatic entry you busted in with a couple of hours ago only slapped on the awesome label. You weren't just Dreamer anymore, the pretty superhero who Conner pretended he was "training" for Cadmus even if it was the other way around. You were Captain L/N. You lead a squadron, and you had that cool armor, and the cool alien friends. Guilt and something like selfishness welled up in his gut like a bubble that just wouldn't pop.

"Don't give that up for me," Conner urged suddenly. He closed his eyes and whispered the special little word you'd always seemed to whisper to each other, "Please. Space—the stars—your whole astronaut deal has always been your dream. Don't you dare suggest what I think you're thinking, Y/N."

Your hands are on his shoulders again, and they wobble him for a bit, trying to shake the sense into him even if he won't budge. "You are my dream. Conner, if you feel like this won't work with me out there, then I will do anything to make it."

He melted, because that couldn't be true, but it was still blissfully and epically rom-com romantic. You had always been looking up; whispering little scientific details about the moon to him, telling him secrets about light and refraction and stars, sharing wishes with him about your hopes for the sky above.

Conner always happened to be somewhere in your sky, though.

"Woah—is that what you've been worried about all this time?" Conner said. He took a step back, trying to shift under the moonlight as to get a clearer image of your face. "You thought I was gonna leave you?"

It was clear that your stomach turned over, the look on your face alone enough to tell him the truth. Worse: it was... plain, and there, and pure. Like it was obvious.

"What else were you supposed to do?" You whispered, bunching your fingers, "I leave for months and reappear without much warning, my messages are scarce, and... and... Isn't it obvious, Kon? How are you even still in love with me, after all that I've missed and all that I've done?"

The words were steel in comparison to feathers. He swears he drops a couple inches with the weight of how that hits him.

"But... if there's even a chance that I can fix things..." You trailed off.

Conner starts shaking his head, regardless of how dizzy it makes him. Is it possible to feel this sick without throwing up or something? It's like there's a goddamn stone in his stomach. "This is gonna sound so lame... but I'm in love with you. I am. There's not a lot that could take me away from you."

There seem to be more questions behind your eyes, and you're so determined he doesn't doubt that he's going to get an earful of them, but the expression pulls together into something teasing. His Y/N comes back to him, Hawaii or not.

"Not much?" You echoed.

Conner smiled, biting his lip in a mock-awkward manner. "I mean... I could really go for a burger right now..."

You stared at him, blankly. And then you start laughing, and it's so bright and beautiful that Conner's convinced the birds are going to start chirping like it's morning again. "You had to ruin the moment, didn't you?"

He wraps his arms around you and looks up at the moon. He knows that if he asks, you'll tell him about it. The details can wait.

So, he does. Your eyes light up, and you start whispering little secrets to him again, like he's the only person in the whole universe who understands. Soon, it's not about the moon anymore. It's about the planets. And the stars. And the sun. And then, you ask him how he is, and you listen to your dream.

And that's a thousand, hundred, bajillion times better.